


Twilight Descending

by StardustDreamMate



Series: A Thousand Years [1]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst, Best Friends, Bickering, Denial, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Memories, Mildly ambiguous ending, Past Child Abuse, Roof dates, markhyuck, non-canon AU, tiniest bit of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:48:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22309684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StardustDreamMate/pseuds/StardustDreamMate
Summary: Mark doesn't know what to do with himself anymore. It feels like each day is another in the endless spiral of time. So, when Donghyuck throws a pebble at his bedroom window, Mark is surprised because, in all of the time he's spent running the same film in his brain, he doesn't remember that ever being part of it.
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Series: A Thousand Years [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1688224
Comments: 25
Kudos: 50





	Twilight Descending

**Author's Note:**

> I probably shouldn’t have written this because I have like eight other things I should be writing, but I wrote it during a lecture, and sometimes it’s nice to take a break and write whatever. So... I did. Ta da!
> 
> Endless thanks to my beta for proofreading and supporting me <3 
> 
> To my readers...thank you for taking time to read this :) I hope I don’t disappoint
> 
> I don’t own or speak for any of the real life people that these characters are based on. This is a work of FICTION. 
> 
> Warnings: This deals with some minor heavier themes. Please proceed with caution, but also know that nothing is too extreme nor graphic. Nevertheless, I'd hate for someone to be harmed by reading this >~<
> 
> Originally Published: 19/1/20
> 
> I went back through and edited a few little things after getting some feedback from a friend. Also, I changed up the summary 12/2/20
> 
> 1/4/20  
> I changed the summary again because I just can't get the right vibe across TT

Mark is sitting at his desk in the corner of his bedroom, glasses off, pencil clenched in his fist, staring down at his math homework with a hopeless expression on his face. He’s been fighting it for ten minutes now, and a headache is starting to bloom between his eyes.

His mind starts to drift away, to a different dimension, the world of memories, and his headache worsens as the door to a particularly painful recollection opens. Nails drive themselves through his temples and into his eye sockets, compounding upon the pressure taking over his mind. 

Tinkling laughter and eyes curved from smiling too much pan across his closed eyelids, tantalizing and haunting. The image of delicate curls falling across sun-kissed skin burns itself into his brain as words and phrases start to whirl around the room, dripping in a shade of caramel that just won’t sound _right._

The sound of wood breaking is deafening in the silence of his bedroom. The splinters are uncomfortable, but Mark only welcomes their needling press, wishing they would be enough to scratch the itch burning in his blood. 

Before he can get too sad though, he hears a pebble plink against his window, instantly snapping him out of it, and Mark stares at the window, rubbing his eyes, wondering if he’s just seen a ghost.

He hasn’t heard that sound in a year.

It’s definitely new.

A second pebble plinks, and Mark grabs his glasses, wiping away a few tears that had pooled in his eyes at some point. The remnants of pencil fall from his hand and scatter across the floor in pieces too thin and too broken to be recovered. 

In a way, Mark can relate to them. 

His glasses take up residence on the bridge of his nose, the metal cooling against sizzling skin. With them comes the gift of sight, something that is treasured to the visually impaired. And Mark is very visually impaired. 

Surely it can’t be...

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He gasps, rushing to the window, already knowing what he’s going to find.

“I’m sitting down,” Donghyuck retorts, turning around to glare at the blond staring at him. His face is just like Mark remembers it to be, soft and delicate, pink, pouted lips, an irritated crease between his brows. “You got a problem with that?”

“Yeah, you’re sitting down,” Mark repeats faintly, barely able to believe the sight in front of him, panic lacing his tone. Is he dreaming? “You’re sitting down on the roof! My roof!”

While Donghyuck raises a judgmental eyebrow, the older focuses on sliding the black plastic screen up so he can fit through the window, praying for the younger boy to not fall off, to not disappear before Mark can step outside and see if he’s real.

He has played this game a thousand times but never has it felt this tangible before.

“And? The problem is?” Donghyuck retorts, raising an eyebrow, scrunching up the right side of his face adorably. Mark’s heart pangs as he snorts, managing to fit through the window and step out onto the roof.

After nearly slipping multiple times, the blond finally settles down next to the other boy, staring at him in wonder. There are shadows fluttering across his features as the leaves in the trees cast their presence across anything that cannot scrape the sky, and a thousand tones are reflected in the colours that decorate Donghyuck’s melanin skin if one cares to look. 

And Mark loves to look. 

“Are you really here right now?” Mark whispers, eyes tracing over the delicate form of the boy next to him. He debates rubbing his eyes, but then Hyuck might disappear again, and Mark can’t have that.

“Does it look like I am? Open your eyes, dipshit,” Donghyuck huffs, shooting him a lovingly exasperated look that melts Mark’s heart all over again, dispelling the lingering pain, even if it's only for a moment.

If there is anything Mark has learned from Donghyuck, it is that you have to live in the moment. Otherwise, life will pass you by. 

“Why did you come up here, Hyuckie?” The nickname still rolls off his tongue, despite how long it’s been. The syllables carry a level of attachment that is unparalleled, and normally, Mark would be embarrassed for being too transparent, but deep down inside, he already knows that it is too late. 

“I felt like it.”

How eloquent. Truly.

“That’s helpful. I feel truly enlightened.”

“You asked the question! It’s not my fault it was a dumb one!” 

“I’m sorry! I asked ‘cause I wanted a legitimate answer! Not some half-assed bullshit!”

Donghyuck smirks at him insolently, making Mark’s heart race in all of the right ways.

“Who’s fault is that? Hm? Because I’m pretty sure it isn’t mine.”

“That doesn’t even make sense!”

“Exactly.” Donghyuck nods as if to punctuate his statement. The action exudes a confidence that Mark has never been able to match, and it is one of the things he loves most about his best friend. 

“I’m confused,” Mark mumbles, pushing on the ache between his brows.

“Good.”

Mark pouts at the younger. It doesn't have an effect on the conversation, but Donghyuck’s resounding laugh makes his chest swell with happiness. Even after all this time...it still sounds the same.

Mark still hasn’t forgotten.

Studying his best friend closer, Mark notices all of the tiny things he has overlooked in the wake of Donghyuck’s surprise appearance. There are red rims surrounding Donghyuck’s eyes, dried tear tracks decorating the younger’s cheeks as dark circles cast shadows across his cheekbones. Horrific purple marks peek out from the edges of his clothes, no matter how far down he tugs his sleeves, no matter how high his collar is. Mark’s heart clenches in suppressed pain seeing them, cringes at how small his best friend looks. 

He shouldn’t go down this road again...

“Did they throw stuff again?” He hears himself ask, scooting closer to Donghyuck, holding out his hand, palm up, a silent offer. It has always been easy between them, and he selfishly hopes that this, at least, can’t be taken away from him. His breath is caught in his throat, waiting for the other boy to make a move. 

“Does it matter?” Donghyuck’s fingers lace themselves between the gaps in Mark’s own, strangely light. Soft, fluffy hair tickles Mark’s neck as a gentle weight settles itself on his shoulder.

Relief floods his body in waves even as something ugly starts to rear its head in the darkest recesses of his consciousness. 

“It does to me.” Carefully, ever so carefully, Mark lowers his head to rest on top of Donghyuck’s silver curls. Everything involving Donghyuck is delicate, calculating, nowadays. One wrong move and the moment will shatter like porcelain.

Mark can’t afford to lose him because the next time he does...it might be the last. Mark might truly forget this time.

Wordlessly, Donghyuck cuddles closer to Mark, shifting enough to tuck himself under the older’s arm. Their fingers only separate for a second, but to Mark, it is an eternity. He is already grasping for the feeling, desperately trying to hold on to it, when the fingers return.

Mark latches on tight.

The shingles are warm underneath them as the sun begins to set. A cooling, gentle breeze wafts over the two boys, hands intertwined upon the roof, and it chills Mark’s entire body. Donghyuck isn’t affected, but then again...why would he be?

Stars begin to emerge as the dawn recedes into the dusk, glowing faintly, twinkling, glittering lights in the sky.

They say the stars have souls where he comes from. They say that the shimmering balls of hydrogen and helium watch over the lives of those who remain on the plane of the living, protecting and loving from afar as their presence from life fades in the wake of their death.

It is strangely comforting to know that there are souls in the sky, looking after him, but if there is something Mark has never wanted, it is to know one of those souls that have receded into the depths of the night sky. 

He hates that he does.

Ever since he met Donghyuck, Mark thinks, his faith in humanity is justified. Unlike the rest of his friends, Mark believes that maybe the human race isn’t so bad after all. Sure, they’ve done some fucked up things, but they’ve also done some good. Some of them are also good.

Donghyuck, Donghyuck is good, so, so good. He’s kind and thoughtful and sweet. He wasn’t made for the family he was born into, he was leagues ahead of them.

Mark wishes he had realized it sooner.

Arguments are everywhere, Mark thinks, staring into the depths of his family’s oak tree, eyes wandering pointlessly across the ridges of its ageing bark. He knows what arguments are, nearly everybody does. People argue. Mark thinks that might be the first principle of humanity.

People argue about differences. Differences in opinion, preference, what to eat for dinner; most arguments are over trivial things.

But sometimes...sometimes arguments aren’t trivial. Sometimes arguments are powerful, and those arguments can become dangerous.

Words have a power that is not credited nearly as much as it should be. Words can aspire to showcase the beauties of the world within the boundaries of a single sheet of paper, and words can build kingdoms out of sticks. 

But what happens when words are used to tear people down, to bring them to their knees? 

What then?

Donghyuck argued with his family about what should be right. They never listened. 

They took the power of words and defiled it under the haze of ignorance, justified it under the guise of love. They told him he was wrong and disgusting, that he should be ashamed of himself, forcing their son into a cage of twisted creation, caging the songbird that wanted to fly.

But Donghyuck was strong. He never once bowed under the force of hate’s hurricane. 

Good arguments are rarer. They produce knowledge, regardless of who is right or wrong. Understandings can be reached, truces can be made. There is beauty in the revelation that two people can agree to not see eye to eye. 

Mark doesn’t think Donghyuck and his family ever had a good argument because no understanding was ever reached.

Where do you find love in a house where trenches were dug across lines in the sand? 

His parents never understood. And Donghyuck never gave up.

Mark thinks that maybe those arguments are why he’s here right now, sitting on top of his roof in the fading sunlight, three unsaid words lingering in the air in front of him.

Mark thinks that maybe they’ve always been there, left unsaid, because he can’t remember a time when they didn’t describe his feelings for Hyuck.

He only wishes he had told him in time.

But time waits for no one. 

Mark’s grasp on the boy next to him loosens, fingers melting away into nothing, the phantom weight lifting as the sun finally sets. The breeze is back again, chilling his shoulders once more, as Mark desperately tries to cling to the fragments of a memory for the billionth time.

He doesn’t know why he still tries.

The sun always sets, the twilight always fades, and Donghyuck disappears with them.

Dusk is the only time Mark can see him, in the space between day and night, where clarity turns murky. As cheesy as it sounds, it’s the space between worlds.

Mark doesn’t know why he still believes it’s real.

Donghyuck is gone.

He is never coming back.

Teardrops slip down his cheeks, as a wretched sob bursts from his mouth. Mark pulls his knees up to his chest as if hugging them to himself will protect him from his pain. It is stabbing and excruciating, shredding his composure and bringing him down into the depths of what makes him human, and Mark hates it. 

Mark should’ve told Donghyuck how he felt.

He should’ve fought for him.

He should’ve realized what was going on, why it was happening, before it was too late.

He should’ve made the connection between the constant sadness, dark bruises, and tired eyes. He should have realized that flinching at every loud noise was unusual and that the fear never quite left his eyes when he talked about ‘home’. Mark should’ve made the connection before that day. 

Donghyuck's parents weren't fighting each other.

They were fighting their son. The arguments had turned into something else, something dangerous and wrong. The bruises were not from things thrown in fits of aggression aimed at someone else. 

Oh, no. 

They were intended for Donghyuck.

He shouldn’t have let Donghyuck walk away that day. He should’ve recognized the danger. Mark will regret that decision for the rest of his life, and he knows he’ll never be able to atone for it.

Rewriting his memories now would make no difference. Mark hadn’t noticed in time, and he had failed him.

Mark should’ve protected Donghyuck from his parents.

He should’ve stopped them.

Donghyuck was too good for this world.

Why did he have to leave?

**Author's Note:**

> Twitter: @MateStardust


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